For Mom
Days of Sunshine were filled with tuna fish on white or turkey on whole wheat with extra mayo, mini Oreos in a plastic bag, and frozen grape juice. Baby carrots or green grapes packed school lunches with the proper nutritional value because it was essential to have a balanced meal. Or something along the lines of all organic and Hostess cupcake approved. Other kids were handed cash to get chicken fingers or pizza, but I stuck to eating peanut butter and jelly or a smushed brownie because ‘love’ was the one ingredient that the lunch ladies didn’t use.
I used to be the perfect height to fit my nose into her belly button with ease. She did everything from cooking (poorly) to reading us The Hobbit (with different voices for each character) to wiping every single crocodile tear, and she still does. She roars with laughter when I say something funny and tells everyone that it’s okay to call her ‘mom.’ I can’t remember a time in my childhood when we weren’t hugging. Every hug brought me closer to the truth or closer to some form of God because she always knew how important it was to hold each other tight.
She fought every teacher or bully to ensure they knew how wrong they were. If they were being an asshole, she’d be an even bigger asshole. And I loved that about her. She fought every battle, just like she still does, with as little judgment as possible, only when necessary because being a mom probably comes with a little bit of attitude. She has to have the last word. Because the perfect mom always does.
I often think of her as a generous person, a quality passed down from my grandpa because it wasn’t a party or perfect day unless everyone was smiling, well-fed, and well-loved. The older I get, the more I understand how loved I was as a child and how loved I still am because when the gold of my hair gets in my eyes, I’m reminded of how alike we are and how each freckle is a piece of my family history. I’d like to become famous or more well-known for many reasons, but one of them is because I’d do anything to give her a day to relax.
Growing up, she gave me all her best advice and pushed me in the right direction without trying too hard because independence was one thing she instilled in me as an essential quality. I often wish I had more advice or direction because being an adult hasn’t been my favorite cup of tea, but that is my burden because she gave me everything in between from a happy childhood to her favorite pair of shoes. I’m at the right age where she and I meet halfway between understanding each other completely and getting confused about who is more capable of making big decisions.
If love filled every ocean, we’d need more oceans because only then would I be able to comprehend how she feels about me. Of all the relationships in my life, I’ve never questioned the one I have with her because it is unconditional and filled with secrets that only we have that no one else would ever understand.
I often think about how sad it is that one day I won’t be able to tell everyone how much I love them or how much of an impact they have on every fiber of my DNA, from all of my eyelashes to every skin cell that regenerates when I go to sleep at night.
But since I am alive and since she is still alive, I will tell her how much she means to me every single day with 12 hugs, too many phone calls, and thousands of winks in the mirror from eyes that match each other’s greatness even when we are 1,342 miles away.